


Grapevine

by chilly_flame



Category: The Devil Wears Prada (2006)
Genre: F/F
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-11-25
Updated: 2011-11-25
Packaged: 2018-02-27 01:05:44
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,057
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2673116
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/chilly_flame/pseuds/chilly_flame
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Andy and Miranda take an ill-fated road trip.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Grapevine

**Author's Note:**

> Based on a prompt from the DWP comment-fic-a-thon: Miranda wearing Andy's Northwestern hoodie, courtesy of writtensword.

Andy refused to look over to her right. She was out of patience.

Two years, she fumed. She’d taken this ridiculous, idiotic, spoiled-rotten behavior from Miranda for two years and she’d never complained. She was paid not to complain. All this was part of her job. At least that’s what she told herself.

But this… this was not a part of the job description, and if Miranda wasn’t careful, Andy was going to stop the car, get out, and walk the rest of the way to Los Angeles. It would probably be safer for both of them.

“You’re driving too-“

“Quiet,” Andy barked, not caring what Miranda thought about her driving.

“I’d like to survive this trip—“

“I said, quiet, Miranda. I’m trying to concentrate. Seriously.” She glanced down between her white, fisted knuckles at the digital display of her speed: 28 miles an hour. She inhaled and exhaled noisily, gritting her teeth.

“You’re drifting—“

“What part of ‘quiet’ don’t you understand?” Andy shouted. She really, really shouted. No more patience was to be had. She was fucking over it all. “I said be quiet and I meant it!”

Andy felt the glare boring into her head, right through to her brain, but she didn’t care.

Miranda sniffed. A few minutes passed in stiff silence as Andy stared through the windshield. Her hope at this trip ever ending was fading, especially when the rain inexplicably turned to snow. This was California. She thought it never snowed here, and certainly not on the direct artery that connected San Francisco and Los Angeles. Taking the other, more scenic route had seemed like a terrible option—it would have taken much longer. But she doubted it was snowing on the coast.

She heard Miranda shift in her seat, and prayed that she wouldn’t do it. She prayed so hard, _please don’t let her open her stupid mouth, please, please--_

Miranda said, “It’s not my fault—“

Andy couldn’t take it anymore. “ _You’re_ the one who made me come with you. You’re the one who decided at the last minute that you absolutely had to see your children on their winter break, that they usually spend _with their father_ , out of the blue. You’re the one who dragged me to San Francisco to carry your stuff around while you went shopping and had meetings with a bunch of designers I never heard of, just so you’d have the excuse to say you were _practically in the neighborhood_ , and _wouldn’t it be nice_ if you could have dinner tonight overlooking the beach in Santa Monica with the girls? Oh gee, what a brilliant plan. _You’re_ the one who didn’t catch a clue that maybe the weather was rotten when our flight was cancelled, and _you_ insisted that we _drive_ instead, because surely it couldn’t be that bad?” Andy took a breath, just gathering steam. “You don’t even have any clothes, Miranda. You left everything at the airport. What in god’s name is wrong with you?” She glanced over at Miranda for a moment, and her face was almost unearthly in the blue-white glow of the dashboard. “It’s been pouring for five hours, and now it’s _snowing_ , and you’re making me a crazy person. I am doing my best to keep both of us from getting killed, but at this point, if you make one more crack about my driving I’m going to go berserk. In fact, I think I already have. So if you want to get to LA tonight in one piece, just be kind enough to keep from firing me until after we pull into the parking lot of the very nice hotel where I booked you a reservation, and I’ll leave you to fend for yourself. You’ll be free to hire another assistant who’s better at taking care of you than I am, which won’t be too hard considering all you ever do tell me is how terrible I am at everything.” To Andy’s terror, she felt herself tearing up, which was the absolute wrong thing to do in this situation. Fiercely she blinked back the foggy tears and glared forward once more.

The snow continued to fall, and Andy marveled at how bizarre it was to be less than an hour from Los Angeles as fluffy white flakes fell from the sky. Concentrating on the road kept her from freaking about the tirade she’d just unleashed; the consequences would come later.

Fortunately they wouldn’t need to pull over before LA, having gassed up in Solvang, so she’d manage until then. Neither of them had had anything to eat or drink for hours, so a bathroom break wasn’t in the cards either. At least Andy had snacks and water stashed in her backpack, and all her luggage was in the trunk. She’d learned to pack well for carry-on, since half a dozen times before Andy knew better, Miranda would inevitably request something that was checked. Now, when Miranda threw her out, she’d have all her stuff with her and she could return to New York without looking back.

Not that she really wanted to go, of course. She was the bigger idiot of the pair of them, because she adored Miranda in the most awful way. That was surely why she was so furious; Miranda was evil, and silly, and emotionally unavailable, but Andy had still managed to fall for her. Call it her inborn desire to fix the unfixable, to please the impossible, to solve the problem that would never go away. But there it was. Andy had accepted it a while ago, but it made her angry in times like these, when Miranda pushed every single one of her buttons. Add driving a car into the mix, when Andy hadn’t been behind the wheel for more than a year, and it was a recipe for destruction.

Andy bit her lip and tried to forgive herself. She’d had crushes on women in power before, but this was no crush. It was a shame really. A crush would be okay to get over, and this, not so much.

They slowed even further as the car climbed a steep grade. Her heart was pounding; she really was afraid now, even after years of driving in miserable Cincinnati. But she’d never driven up a mountain in a Ford Focus before, even one with good horsepower and a GPS and all the bells and whistles they could get without a rental reservation. The XM Radio was silent, and Andy wished she could put it on, but she needed every iota of her brain focused on getting them up this hill.

The five mile climb took twenty minutes, and they crawled the entire way.

Andy exhaled when they reached the top, thinking it would be better now. But it wasn’t. She felt powerful gusts of wind, pushing against the car violently. Finally, the traffic slowed to a stop, and there was nothing but a long stretch of red taillights in front of her, far as the eye could see. The snow was sticking too, and the sun had vanished. It was cold, and it would only get colder as darkness fell.

“Where are we?” Miranda asked.

Andy was surprised at how soft her voice was. She looked at the GPS. “Only about 45 miles away from where we need to be.”

“Mm,” Miranda said, nodding. She looked out the window and said nothing more.

They sat together in the quiet, and Andy’s rage started to seep away, leaving only regret and sadness at what she’d said. It wasn’t like it would have any impact on their relationship, other than to end it.

Andy put the car in park after another few minutes, and started her phone. “Please let me get service here,” she mumbled, and remarkably, she did. She Googled her location and searched for a traffic report, and as she did, the car’s GPS bleeped at her. A message in red popped up in the upper right hand corner: “Sigalert issued: road closure, Route 5 between Lake Hughes and Templin. Exit and find alternate route.”

Andy gaped at the screen, her mouth open. Not thirty seconds later, a state trooper strode down the middle of the highway, on foot, talking to people in cars. Andy’s heart was so loud she was amazed Miranda hadn’t complained about the noise.

When the trooper was close enough, Andy rolled down the window. It was freezing out, and the wind howled. “Hi there, ma’am. We’ve had to close the road for now—there’s an accident at the bottom of the Grapevine, and there’s a big rig across all lanes. Take a couple hours to do the clean up, and then you’ll be on your way.”

Andy heard Miranda take a breath, so she said quickly, “Thanks, officer,” and rolled the window up. They sat some more, while Andy’s mind blanked out, and Miranda, unpredictably, said nothing.

With a sigh, Andy said finally, “Okay.” She popped the trunk and got out, while Miranda squawked from the passenger seat.

“Where are you going?”

Andy waved a hand and shivered in the wind. “Back in a sec.” She hurried to the trunk and got her luggage, hauling it to the backseat as fast as she could. Once in the driver’s seat again, she let out a squeal when her whole body shivered. “Jeez, it’s bad out there. Thankfully we have more than three quarters of a tank of gas, so we’re okay on that—we can idle for at least 8 hours before we run dry. That probably won’t happen, so we can leave the car running. But I’m still kind of chilly, so I’m going to change.” With that, Andy climbed into the back seat and unzipped her rolling suitcase.

She traded her too-thin blouse and cardigan for it a navy thermal (packed for the San Francisco wind, just in case). Her skirt was next, replaced by fleece sweats. She was relieved she hadn’t taken a run that morning—she doubted that Miranda would put up with smelly clothes, even under the threat of death from hypothermia. But these were clean and warm, and so were the socks she pulled on before shoving her feet into her sneakers.

When she finally looked up, Miranda was watching her, eyes wide.

“What?”

“Did you actually expect this to happen?” Miranda drawled.

Andy rolled her eyes. “Always be prepared,” she said, holding up her boy scout salute. “I know I’m fired, but do you want to borrow something? I don’t have much, but—“

“Yes,” Miranda said. “And you’re not fired.”

Andy’s eyebrows rose. “Ha, ha, very funny, Miranda. I swear I won’t to crash the car when we get out of here.” Feeling particularly evil, Andy found her worn Northwestern hoodie, and handed it to Miranda. “This will keep you warm. You want some long pants too?”

Miranda gazed down at the sweatshirt as though it was a petri dish of dangerous bacteria, but she pulled it over her head without hesitation. “What do you have?”

“Here are some leggings, you can put them on under your skirt. And socks.” Andy handed them up, and wished she had the guts to take Miranda’s picture as she struggled to get her leggings on in the front seat. She even took off her heels and put on the socks. “I don’t have gloves, sorry. But we should be fine in the car. I’m sure it won’t be long.”

Andy crawled back into the front seat, ignoring the pang of hunger that came upon her. It wouldn’t do to go through their supplies too quickly; it might be longer than a couple of hours before they could get out of here. Instead, she just sat back down, and waited for Miranda to say something.

She didn’t have to wait long.

“I—I hate leaving the girls with Alan,” Miranda said, her voice low. “When Stephen left, I was concerned they would ask to live with him. I was just… I wanted to see them. How they are with him. I thought this would be the easiest way.”

Andy closed her eyes. “Miranda, they love you. Do you really believe they’d want to leave you?”

“Some days, yes. They’re getting older, and I try to spend enough time with them, but it’s difficult. My excuses only go so far now. They’ve heard them all before.”

Taking her life into her hands, Andy replied, “Then maybe it’s time to stop making excuses.”

This time, Miranda closed her eyes. “You’re right. I know you’re right. I just have to… change some things.”

She’d never made an overt gesture toward Miranda before, but her desolate expression made Andy’s heart swell. She reached out and touched one shoulder. To her surprise, Miranda didn’t flinch. Instead, she looked up at Andy, eyes wide and glassy. “This has been a terrible day,” she said, and the tension between them broke.

Andy laughed, and squeezed Miranda’s shoulder once before she let go. She was finally ready to apologize. “I’m sorry I screamed at you.”

Miranda’s eyebrow lifted, and when she smiled, the curve of her mouth made Andy’s stomach turn over. “Don’t say it if you don’t mean it.”

“I do. Um, now, at least. I meant it at the time.”

“That was certainly clear,” Miranda said. “How long have you been waiting to speak to me that way?”

Andy chuckled. “Hmm, let me think… What date did we meet again?”

“Ha ha,” Miranda drawled. “I accept your apology. I haven’t enjoyed being trapped in the car in this weather. And this—“ Miranda waved outside—“is so ridiculous as to be unbelievable. And I mean that no one in New York, or anywhere would believe it.”

“They’d believe it if they had proof.” Andy snatched up her phone and clicked open the camera application. “Now pose.”

“I most certainly will not,” Miranda said, turning up her nose.

“Okay, I’ll just take a candid—“

Miranda sighed in exasperation. “Oh, fine. I’m sure Nigel will get a kick out of it.” With that, she turned toward Andy in an elegant pose. Her star wattage was massive, and Andy actually caught her breath. “What? Is this sweatshirt so decrepit?”

Andy shook her head, warm even as the wind blew snow and ice all around them. “You just… You sure know how to turn it on. I don’t get to see it that often.”

Miranda went still, eyes narrowed. “Turn what on?”

Trying not to let her sudden nervousness show, she aimed for nonchalance. “You know, Miranda. You look like a movie star. Charisma, energy. You could be a model yourself.”

With a snort, Miranda smirked. “One some years past her prime. Don’t flatter me.”

Andy’s mouth opened. “I’m not flattering you,” she said seriously. She put the phone in her lap, and looked into Miranda’s eyes. “You’re beautiful.”

Something caught and held between them. It wasn’t familiar or comforting; she felt as though she could see every movement of Miranda’s chest as she breathed, every shift of her hair, even the pulse at her neck. She had to capture it, so she lifted the phone and hoped the photo would come out. As she snapped, she said, “Smile pretty,” and Miranda did.

She lowered the camera and swallowed, never taking her eyes off Miranda, whose stared right back at her. Andy cleared her throat. “And you look great in my sweatshirt.” The moment she said it, she felt like an idiot, but to her surprise, Miranda smiled.

“Do you really believe I’m beautiful?” Miranda asked.

Andy melted. She had a sinking suspicion that at any moment, Miranda was going to whip out a tape recorder and accuse her of sexual harassment, but she couldn’t help herself. “Yes. I always have.”

Miranda licked her lips, and glanced down at Andy’s mouth. “How beautiful?”

All the air had been sucked out of the small car; Andy throbbed between her legs. “Ah,” she breathed, and she saw Miranda flinch at the sound, her lips opening in desire. She reached out, and Miranda met her halfway.

\---

Officer John Harrison strode down the long stretch of snowy road, hauling his two-gallon gas can and trying not to slip. He spoke to car after car of irritated travelers, letting them know they’d be headed out in a few minutes. It wasn’t his fault that stupid big-rig was going too fast in this weather, and it certainly wasn’t his fault that the freight had gone spilling out into the road. He was sure the whole area was going to smell like salmon and shrimp for the next month, if it ever got warm, at least.

“Five minutes,” he said to the passengers in the car to his left. They were about to bitch him out—he could tell from the expressions of frustration. “I know, it took a little longer than we were hoping, but they’ve opened the road. Please drive carefully down the grade, it’s slick out there.”

The window went up, and he moved on. “Five minutes,” he kept repeating, car after car, until he came upon a blue Ford Focus. The windows were completely fogged. Great. The car wasn’t rocking, but somebody was having fun while passing the time.

He knocked on the driver’s side window. Nothing happened. He knocked again. “Hello in there,” he called out. A few more seconds passed before the back seat window went down a few inches. It was a young woman, red-faced, but grinning wildly.

“Hi officer, what’s up?”

Harrison replied, “Well, you’d best uh, get up in the driver’s seat, ma’am, traffic’s gonna start moving in about five minutes.”

He heard someone hiss from the backseat, but the young woman shushed whoever it was. “Thanks, Officer. You really think it’s only five minutes?”

“Yes, ma’am,” he said.

“Close the window, Andrea,” a voice said from the darkness. “You have a job to finish.”

The young woman bit her lip and grinned again . “Gotta go. Thanks!” She hit a button and the window rolled up. The car jerked for a moment, then settled.

Officer Harrison straightened up, and exhaled. He closed his eyes, reminding himself that he had things to do that didn’t involve thinking about what just happened. He looked out on the endless stretch of snow-covered cars, and got back to work.


End file.
